the end of something
why do we paint our lives with patterns of sadness,
and put too much passion on something we believe in;
are we really looking for that one thing called happiness,
or just an escape from the weakness found deep within?
we can never ignore the fact that we can withstand anything,
being ignored, neglected, left standing alone under the rain;
face up, smiling while haunted by the fact that you’re nothing,
to the person who gives you life, together with echoing pain…
we place ourselves in a dim corner, shivering with silence,
where shadows are friends and everything is definitely imaginary;
under the canopy of thoughts pounded by our mere conscience,
and the truth behind our once upon a time story…
now we’re here, asking one question after being that wishful,
could this be the end of something… beautiful…
